


99

by acemockingjay



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Bipolar Disorder, Explicit Language, M/M, OOC Marco Bott
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-03-19
Updated: 2015-03-30
Packaged: 2018-03-18 16:11:02
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,145
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3575607
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/acemockingjay/pseuds/acemockingjay
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Marco is in his first year of college when he meets Jean, the cashier of Trost's Frosty Fro-Yo. After a night on the town, the two become friends and Marco decides to help Jean out. When Marco happens to be in need of a roommate and Jean needs a place to stay, their worlds are thrown together as they start college life in Apartment 99.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Frosty Fro-Yo

  
Jean was ready to puke. If he had to serve one more cup of half-chocolate, half-strawberry frozen yogurt with nuts and chocolate syrup on top he was going to puke in it. He checked his phone; it was only 6:00 pm. The store didn’t technically close until 9:00, but Tuesday evenings when the ice cream parlor across the street had its $1.99 specials were the slowest times of the week. He was so tired of working here. At the time, he’d needed a job and Trost’s Frosty Fro-Yo was the only place hiring, but now, he wished he’d never been hired. Sure, it was an okay place to work – getting paid a little over minimum wage to stand behind a counter all day and do hardly anything at all wasn’t too bad. Not too bad until a new manager got hired, that is. Levi Ackerman was a small man around the age of thirty and Jean had no idea why he would want to run a frozen yogurt shop in the first place. No taller than 5’3” and always scowling, Levi was like a little ball of hate. He hated all the workers, Jean most of all, and made sure no one was ever slacking. He also cleaned religiously. If it was a slow day at the shop, he would break out the bleach and Pinesol and make the crew scrub everything in sight. Mr. Ackerman, as he made the workers call him, would also refuse to let anyone leave early even if they’d finished their designated chores – it was terrible.

He heard the office door open and he knew what was coming before it even happened, “Kirschtein!” yelled Mr. Ackerman, “make yourself useful and mop the whole store – I want it spotless. And by the way, I’m going home so you can do the honors of staying late and locking up, I’m sure you’d be delighted.” With a smirk, he walked back to his office to grab his keys and leave.

“Yes sir, Mr. Ackerman,” Jean mumbled back to him, thinking of how  _delighted_  he would be to take the mop handle and shove it up Mr. Ackerman’s ass. He could too, he was several inches taller than Mr. Ackerman and quite a bit stronger; he would have no problem overpowering him. He cheered himself up with thoughts like these until he was almost done mopping and the bell over the door that signaled a new customer rang. “Of course someone would walk in now, just as I’m finishing,” he murmured to himself before turning around to greet the customer with a faux-genuine “Hello, and welcome to Trost’s Frosty Fro-Yo!” Jean made sure to smile extra big, showing how  _glad_ he was to have a new customer.

“Hey,” was all the guy said. He seemed to be the same age as Jean, with short, black hair and tawny brown eyes. He wore mostly black from the beanie on his head to the converse on his feet and had several piercings and tattoos. Jean thought he looked weirdly out of place. “Well,” the guy spoke, “are you gonna take my order or just stare at me all night?”

Jean’s face turned red as he hurried back behind the counter. “Sorry, what can I get you?”

The guy stuck his hands in the pockets of his sweatshirt and stared at the menu for a few agonizing seconds before answering, “I don’t know,” he said, looking at Jean’s nametag, “ _Jean_ , what’s good here?”

 _Is this guy for real?_ Jean thought to himself. “Well, I like the peanut butter and chocolate flavors mixed together and Butterfinger bits on top, it won’t cost much.”

“Sure, give me two of those then,” the guy replied, handing Jean a twenty. “Will this cover it?”

Jean just stared at the money, “Uh, yeah, this will more than cover it. Here, I’ll get the change-“

“Keep it.”

“Oh, I’m not allowed to do that, if my manager found out, I’d be toast.”

“And who’s gonna tell your manager? There’s no one here. Just keep it.”

Jean eyed the boy curiously, he couldn’t figure out what to make of him. Pocketing the change, he quickly made the two fro-yos. “Here ya go, enjoy.”

The guy only grabbed one of the cartons and walked over to one of the small dining tables, pulling out a chair and propping his feet on the table.

Jean called to him, “Uh, hey, you forgot this one.’”

“No, I didn’t,” the boy replied pulling out another chair, “that one’s for you.”

“I’m in the middle of a shift, I can’t just sit down and eat this.”

“And why not? No one’s stopping you. Get your ass over here before I make you,” the boy was grinning now.

Jean thought about it for a moment and realized he was right, Mr. Ackerman would never find out and even if he did, Jean had been wanting to quit anyway. He took off the green apron he was required to wear and walked over to the table. As he sat down, he took his phone from his back pocket and set it on the table. The boy snatched it up and started going through it. “Hey! What are you doing?” Jean reached for his phone but the boy just held it out of reach, typing away.

“And there we go,” he said, giving the phone back.

Jean looked at the screen and saw that a new contact had been added under the name of Marco Bodt. “Is this you?” he asked.

“Nah, that’s my little brother.” When Jean just stared at him he continued, “Of course that’s me, don’t be an idiot.”

“Oh, why’d you give me your number?”

“Why do you think? I saw how you’ve been looking at me – I know you want this,” Marco smiled, gesturing to himself.

Jean’s cheeks flooded with heat, “Look, I admit you are attractive, but I hardly know you enough to ‘want you.’”

Marco took a bite of his yogurt, “Yeah, okay,” he said, winking.

Jean didn’t think his cheeks could get redder, “Just shut up and eat your fro-yo, okay?” he said, taking a bite of his own – which was really, really good by the way. As they ate, Jean studied the other boy. He discovered that his tanned skin was practically covered in freckles. Jean found this funny, considering the hardcore type of look Marco had. Marco had two piercings per ear, including small plugs, and one lip piercing on the bottom left. From what Jean could see, Marco also had tattoos up and down his arms with a small one crawling up the side of his neck. Paired with a beanie, Trost U sweatshirt, and ever-popular black-framed glasses, Marco was quite the character to behold. Just as Jean found himself staring at the tattoos snaking out from under Marco’s slightly pushed-up sleeves, he realized Marco had been talking to him.

“Hey, dude,” Marco snapped his fingers close to Jean’s face, “come back to Earth; my eyes are up here.”

“Sorry, I got a little distracted, what were you saying?”

Marco sighed, “I was just asking what movie you wanted to go see.”

“What makes you think I want to see a movie? Besides, I’m at work, I can’t just leave.”

“Why not?”

“Marco-“

“Look, you and I both know you’d rather be anywhere else than here and that Tuesday nights aren’t the busiest nights for you guys. We’re going to a movie.”

Jean ruffled his hair and checked his phone: 6:30. He would have to come back after and close up shop, but he still had two and a half hours until then. “Okay fine, but I have to be back by 9:00 to close.”

“Sure, yeah, whatever. Just get your stuff and let’s go.”

Jean went to the back and grabbed his wallet from his locker along with the shop keys so no one would break in. He went into the bathroom next to the lockers and checked himself in the mirror. His reflection showed a guy with a sandy blond undercut, light-brown eyes, and a somewhat muscular build. “Does he really think I’m attractive?” Jean wondered, studying himself in the mirror. He took another minute to wash the smell of frozen dairy off his hands before returning to the front of the store where he found Marco sitting on the counter. “Hey, hey, get off of there I just cleaned that,” he chided Marco.

“Yes, sir,” Marco replied with another wink – it seemed to be a trademark thing with him and the fact that it made Jean’s heart speed up a few beats wasn’t helping. “Come on, he said, walking to the door, “We’ll take my car.”

“Okay, which car is yours?” Jean asked, following him out into the muggy summer air.

Marco answered by patting the roof an old, beat up, black Volkswagen Beetle and saying, “This is Gustave. Gustave, Jean. Jean, Gustave.”

Jean tried and failed to hold back a laugh. “You’ve got to be kidding me. You drive  _that?_ ”

“Hey now, be nice. Don’t make me leave your ass here.”

“I’m sorry, it’s just that I didn’t expect a guy like you to be driving a car like this,” Jean replied, getting into the passenger’s side door.

Getting in and turning over the ignition, Marco put a hand on the dash, “Gustave is my baby. He belonged to my sister before me and now he’s mine. I’ve had him since I was sixteen and three years later, he’s still kicking.”

“Huh,” was all Jean had to say.

“So,” Marco said, shifting gears and throwing the little car into drive, “Tell me about yourself. Who  _is_ Jean?”

“Well, for starters, I grew up here in Trost, went to Trost High, and as far as college goes, I’m really not sure,” he cleared his throat before continuing. “My mom raised me on her own for as long as I can remember. I don’t think my dad was in the picture much, though. Mom always tried to look out for me and do what’s best for me by trying to get me involved with other kids. I played sports for most of middle and high school, I was even the basketball captain at one time, but I didn’t want to pursue that as a career. I always thought about maybe joining the military, but I don’t know.” Jean paused, thinking for a moment. “To be honest, I’m not quite sure what I want. So now, I work a dead-end part time job serving frozen yogurt and working with an asshole of a manager. And you? What’s your story?”

“Don’t worry about me,” Marco replied, “you don’t need to know.”

“What are you, a spy or something?” Jean joked. “What’s with the secrecy? I showed you mine, you show me yours.”

Marco laughed and glanced over at Jean, something one should never do while driving, “Okay, Jean, okay. I’ll tell you, but it’s going to be boring as hell.”

“You can tell me, I’m ready,” was all Jean replied.

Marco was silent for a second before starting, “I’m not from around here, I started college at Trost University last semester and I’m currently an art major – I paint, you see. My parents wanted me to settle down and get a normal, boring job and marry a normal, boring wife and give them normal, boring grandchildren. I say fuck that. I want to travel the world and meet new people, see my art in museums, actually live my life. I don’t have time to settle; I want something real.”

“That’s beautiful, Marco.”

Jean looked over and saw Marco grin, “Thanks, Jean. I think so too.” By now, they were pulling into the theater parking lot. It was a small building of about 10 auditoriums and most of the time it only showed movies that were already out of theaters. Tonight’s selections were oddly only children’s movies. Jean was okay with that but he wasn’t sure how Marco would feel. “Hey, Marco, look, we can go somewhere else if you don’t want to see one of these.”

“Are you kidding me?” Marco’s eyes had lit up and he was smiling, “How to Train Your Dragon is. My. Favorite. Movie. Come on, let’s go in before it starts.” Marco grabbed Jean’s hand and pulled him towards the building and Jean found himself wondering how exactly he’d come to find himself with this guy. When they got inside, Jean insisted on paying for everything since Marco was so generous back at the shop. Marco, however, refused and paid before Jean could because “don’t you know that when you take someone on a date, it’s tradition to pay for them.” After buying a large bucket of popcorn, a king sized box of sour patch kids, and large drinks (where did this guy get all his money??), Marco and Jean went and found their seats in the back row of theater 6.

Seeing as it was a Tuesday night, they had the theater to themselves. Jean put all of the popcorn and candy next to him in the seat so it wouldn’t be between him and Marco. Marco grabbed the bucket of popcorn from the seat and put it in his own lap when he sat down. When Jean raised an eyebrow at him, Marco just replied “What? I’m not letting this buttery goodness go to waste.” Jean just shook his head, while Marco turned his attention to the screen. Marco truly was an odd character. His outward appearance was just a shell, a layer of his identity. Jean was determined to find out more about him as the night went on. The movie was starting now and Jean broke open a box of sour patch kids, his face puckering with each one. “Amateur,” Marco mumbled.

Jean put down the box, “Excuse me?”

“I called you an amateur. Anyone can eat those things without making a face.”

“Yeah right, let’s see you do it.”

Marco grabbed the box and pulled out three yellow ones, there was a gleam in his eyes as he threw all three in his mouth, chewing them up and swallowing them with a straight face. “There, I did it. Amateur.”

“Okay, fine,” Jean grabbed the box and grabbed one of each color, throwing them in his mouth. He tried his hardest not to grimace and he succeeded. It then turned into a competition between the two to see who could eat the most with a straight face. Marco finally won, obviously, and Jean just ended up with an angry stomach. During the movie, Marco would lean over and whisper his thoughts on certain parts, something Jean would find annoying if anyone else did it. Marco didn’t bother him though; Jean was truly interested in what he had to say. Jean ended up eating most of the popcorn since Marco was so invested in the movie, but about halfway through Jean found Marco laying on his shoulder. “Uh,” he whispered, “Marco? Don’t go to sleep on me.”

“Shhh, I’m not. You’re just soft.”

“Thank you, I guess?” Jean knew Marco meant well, so he gave in and put his arm around the other boy. Marco snuggled closer and put his head on Jean’s chest. Jean started drawing circles on Marco’s back, thinking about how strange it was that they were total strangers a few hours ago and now they were this comfortable with each other. Marco’s hair smelled like coconut and vanilla and Jean was thankful for women’s shampoo – it smelled so much better than men’s. Before he knew it, the movie was over and Jean found himself not wanting to move. “Come on, Marco, let’s go,” Jean said, hating himself for it.

Marco groaned and sat up reluctantly, his glasses were a little off kilter and his beanie was falling off. Jean smiled and pulled it down over his face. “Hey! Cut it out, asshole,” Marco said, readjusting it back to its proper position.

Jean was laughing now and Marco retaliated by rubbing his hands through Jean’s hair, making it look like a family of rats had taken up residence. “Aw, dude, come on! Now I’ve gotta fix it.”

“Serves you right for trying to pull one over on me.”

“Yeah, well, don’t think this is the end of it, you loser.”

“Hey, who are you calling the loser, loser?”

Jean and Marco bantered back and forth until they were both laughing hard enough that the sour patch kids considered making a reappearance. As they stopped for breath, Jean looked into Marco’s eyes and did something neither was expecting him to do, he leaned in and gave Marco a kiss. It wasn’t anything big, but it caught Marco off guard. In the dim light, his cheeks blended in with his freckles as they turned redder in color. “Wow, Jean I didn’t think you had it in you.”

“Wait, what?”

“Well, I figured if we were going to kiss tonight, I would have initiated it. Well done,” he said with a wink.

Now it was Jean’s turn to blush, “Thanks, I guess.” Jean looked at the time, 8:30. “Oh, crap,” he said, “I’ve got to get back to the shop.”

He and Marco got back in Gustave and raced to Trost’s Frosty Fro-Yo. When they pulled in the parking lot, another car was there. In the reserved spot. “Mr. Ackerman,” Jean whispered, his heart dropping into his stomach. “Stay in the car, Marco,” Jean said, getting out and shutting the passenger’s door quietly. Marco, of course, didn’t stay in the car and followed Jean inside. The door was already unlocked, as Jean knew it would be, and he and Marco crept inside.

As he went back behind the counter, a voice from the corner booth called out, “Hello, Jean, it’s so good of you to make an appearance. You know, I thought you were just going to stay out all evening with,” he paused, looking Marco over with his signature scowl, “your friend here.”

Jean blanched and knew right then that his night was about to go from an overall ten to a negative twenty very quickly. “Mr. Ackerman, sir, I thought you’d gone home for the night.”

“Oh, I did, I did. But then I got a call from a loyal customer and dear friend of mine asking why we were closed before 9. So naturally I drove back up here to investigate and here we are.” Mr. Ackerman got up from the table and walked towards them, “So, Mr. Kirschtein, would you like to tell me what the hell you were doing?”

“My friend here, Marco, dropped by and wanted to hang out, and we’re hardly ever busy on Tuesday nights anyway, so I went with him to the movies. I’m sorry, sir.”

“Oh, you better be, you little shit. To think, I gave you this job because no one else would hire you, and this is how you repay me?”

Jean was shaking now, “Sir, I-”

“I mean, I would suspect something like this of that Sasha girl, as dimwitted as she is, or maybe Springer even, but not you, Jean. I thought you were smarter than this; I guess I was wrong.” He turned to walk away, “You’re fired, by the way. You can turn in your keys and apron-”

“Fuck you,” Jean said cooly, despite visibly shaking.

“Excuse me?” Mr. Ackerman’s face had turned a deep red.

“I said, ‘Fuck. You.’,”

“What the hell makes you think you can talk to me like that?” A vein in Mr. Ackerman’s neck was throbbing now.

“Because,” Jean replied, no longer shaking, with a confident look on his face, “You are a shitty excuse for a manager. You don’t care about us, about this place, all you care about is making us feel like absolute shit every day. I’m tired of it.” Jean took a step forward, causing Mr. Ackerman to take a step back. “Sure, what I did was fucked up, I never should have left during a shift. But don’t you ever. Ever. talk shit about Sasha again, do you hear me? She is the best worker this place has ever seen and she loves it here and you treat her like shit. You treat us all like shit. Armin, Historia, Connie, Sasha. Enough.” Jean was right in his face now, “ If I ever hear from one of them that you so much as scowled at them again, I will come in here and beat your ass bloody. Do you understand,  _Mr. Ackerman_?”

Mr. Ackerman stood there quietly, his face unreadable, before the slightest nod of his head. He took a step back before answering, “I want you to leave. Get your things and leave, we’re done here.”

“You fucking bet we are, come on, Marco,” Jean strode out the door, head held high. Marco walked out behind him, flipping off Mr. Ackerman and winking as he did.

“Damn, Jean, I’m surprised, I didn’t think you had it in you.”

“Yeah, well it doesn’t matter now; I’m out of a job.”

“Hey, hey, come on now, don’t worry about it. I’m sure you’ll find something better than this craphole soon enough.”

“Yeah, maybe,” as he leaned against Gustave, his confidence had worn off by now, and he wasn’t too happy about it.

“You know, they’re always hiring part-time workers at the cafe over at Trost U. The manager there is a personal friend of mine, maybe I could set you up?”

Jean looked into Marco’s eyes for a beat before answering, “Really Marco? You’d do that?”

“Hell yeah I would, man. Hell yeah.”

“That’s so nice of you, I don’t know what to say.”

“‘Thank you’ usually works.”

Jean laughed, “Thanks, Marco, I owe you one,” he replied before getting in the passenger seat.

  
“‘Thank you’ usually works.”

Jean laughed, “Thanks, Marco, I owe you one,” he replied before settling into the passenger seat.

 


	2. Calm Before the Storm

When Marco dropped him off that night, Jean knew he was in for a shitstorm from his mom. She had only let him stay home so long because he could help her with the bills, but now he was just another mouth to feed. It’s not that his mom didn’t love him, only that she wasn’t exactly swimming is cash. The old gray building was nothing to sneeze at. They had enough rooms for Jean and his mother to sleep comfortably enough, as well as a standard kitchen/laundry room, a bathroom, and a living room. Jean was never used to anything fancy and he was just fine with that; he didn’t require much. He braced himself for what was to come and rehearsed what to say to her again and again in his mind as he walked up the front steps and into the quaint little house they called home.

The sounds of Jeopardy reruns rang through the house from the small tv and harmonized with the snoring coming from his mom’s lips. Jean took an old white blanket and threw it over her, adjusting her head to a more comfortable position so she wouldn’t wake up with a stiff neck. He smiled down at her, turning off the tv, and thought about all the memories they’d shared in this house. He’d practically grown up here, his mom took care of him by herself for a long time until he was old enough to be “the man of the house”. Whatever that meant. He had gotten the part time job during high school to help her out since she was on disability and couldn’t work much. So, essentially, without the job he was dead weight. He could bring up the job Marco offered, but that wasn’t a sure thing, and even then it wasn’t permanent. He decided to wash the dishes while his mom still slept if not only just to give her one less thing to worry about the next day when he broke the news.

Jean wanted to just sleep and forget about everything that had happened that night, but he knew he couldn’t. He wanted to just go back in time and start the night over, maybe then Marco wouldn’t have shown up and he’d still be employed. Sure, his night with Marco was more fun than he’d had in a while, but it had cost him his job. Not that he hadn’t fantasized about quitting and telling Mr. Ackerman off hundreds of times (because he had), but he wasn’t quite ready to cut that string yet. Oh well, it didn’t really matter now anyway. Trost’s Frosty Fro-Yo was in the past and there was nothing he could do about it. He rolled over breathing deeply, in-and-out, in-and-out, until he could finally sleep.

Jean woke up to the smell of pancakes - evidently his mother was in a good mood. Not for long, he thought to himself. Jean decided that he was going to make the best of that day. It had been a while since his mom had another breakdown and he knew all too well that this euphoria would crumble soon. He just wanted to spend as much time with her as possible before it was too late. He noticed that he hadn’t even changed into pajamas the night before and hurriedly put on a pair of sweatpants and a hoodie so his mom wouldn’t be suspicious. He walked into the kitchen where she was cooking away, hair up in a messy bun and batter on her face. “Good morning, mom,” he said, pecking her on the cheek and taking the stack of pancakes she’d set out on the counter for him.

“Morning, Jean,” she replied cheerfully. “You want your syrup hot or cold?”

“Cold, please,” he replied as she tossed the bottle to him from the fridge.

“I’ll never understand that,” she said, pulling a small cup of syrup from the microwave. “Your father used to eat his the same way. It’s disgusting if you ask me.” She finished her own pancakes and joined him at the table.

“Yeah,” he replied, his thoughts distant as he stirred the pieces around in the brown goo.

“Is something the matter, sweetheart?” she asked, frowning.

He didn’t feel right telling her this early in the morning and while she was in this good of a mood. “No, mom, everything’s fine,” was all he could think to say. “I’m just tired.”

“Well, wash up after you finish those, I need you to go into town for me.”

“But, mom,” he replied, “I don’t have a car remember?”

“Well, duh,” she joked, “you can borrow mine. Besides, you usually take your bike anyway.”

Jean didn’t mention that his bike had been stolen a few days before and that he’d been walking to work. As he finished his pancakes, he thanked his mother once again before heading to the sink. He washed up his plate and ran water in the pans so he could scrub them later.

After he helped his mom clean the kitchen, Jean went to the bathroom to take a shower. Their bathroom was only big enough for a single sink, toilet, and standing shower. He didn’t mind the small space, although the mirror and window fogged up too quickly. As he undressed he looked in the mirror. He was slim, never having the chance to eat as much as he wanted and get fat. His arms were slightly toned from the basic house and yard work he helped his mother with and from occasionally going to the gym with someone from work. While in the shower, he continued to think of what to say to his mother. He knew she would be upset, but he figured that maybe if he buttered her up enough she’d let him stay.

Once he dried off and got back to his room, he checked his phone. One new message from Marco.

_Sup, nerd?_

Jean shook his head, not sure what he’d gotten himself into last night with Marco, and replied with a simple

_Hi_.

Jean’s phone lit up again as he was getting dressed and it was another text from Marco:

_So, listen, I still feel really shitty about last night. Why don’t we meet up later and I’ll do what I can to make it up to you? ;) Sound good?_

Jean’s heart sped up, he had no idea what Marco intended by ‘make it up to you.’ Also, why the winky face? _Oh god, hopefully Marco just wants lunch or something._

_Sure,_ he replied, _I have to be in town today anyway_

_Cool, see you at the Japanese restaurant on 6th at around 1?_

_Yeah._

_Sweet, I’ll be the blonde in the red dress, Marco added the emoji of the dancing woman in the red dress._

Jean laughed, Marco was a huge dork. Setting his phone aside, Jean finished dressing. His outfit was a little more put together than usual - he wanted to look good for Marco. He wore a gray sweater with black jeans and pulled a black beanie from the back of his closet that he hardly ever wore - he figured Marco would be pleased. He found a pair of black converse as well and decided to go the extra mile again, just for Marco. He looked in his bedroom mirror, smiling at himself. This wasn’t his usual look, but it didn’t look bad on him. Actually, he kind of liked it. He stood there, making faces in the mirror for a few minutes until he was interrupted by his mom walking in. He quickly turned from the mirror, cheeks tinged pink from embarrassment, while his mom just laughed.

“Well,” she grinned, “don’t you look fancy? Who is he?”

“Mom!” Jean’s cheeks reddened even further. “He’s just a friend.”

“‘Just a friend?’” she mocked, “do you think I’m dumb? I know the look you get when you like someone, Jean, the least you could do is tell me about him.”

Jean sighed, settling on the bed, “His name is Marco, I met him last night at work.”

“Oh? And what’s he like?”  
“Uh, well,” he wasn’t sure how to describe Marco in a way she’d approve of. “He has black hair, he wears glasses - not nerdy ones though, he drives a Bug that he named Gustave-”

“Gustave?” a worried look crossed her face.

“Yeah, it was his sister’s car first, I guess naming cars is a thing for them.”

“Uh-huh, go on,” she sat down on the bed, giving Jean her full attention.

“He’s an art major at Trost U and I think he lives near there but, like, not on campus.”

“And what does he do for a living?”

‘Uh,” Jean thought, “well, I’m not sure. He can afford his own apartment though, so he must have money stashed away somewhere.”

“Good to know, maybe he’s a keeper then.”

“Mom!”

“I’m kidding, I’m kidding. Well, only kind of.”

They both laughed and she laid her head on his shoulder. “He sounds like a nice young man, you should bring him over some time when you want, no rush.”

“Mom, please, it’s not like we’re dating - I only just met him last night.” And besides, he thought to himself, I don’t think you’ll want to meet him after you’ve learned that he cost me my job.

“I know, it’s just that I want you to know that my door is open to him whenever he likes.”

Jean thought for a moment, “Thanks, mom, I love you.”

“Aw, don’t get emotional on me, Jean. I love you too,” she smiled, wrapping her arms around him.

Jean grabbed the keys to his mom’s old Corolla and ran out the front door. He was running a little late because he and his mother had talked a little longer before he left, just cherishing the moment. It was a beautiful day, the sun streaming through the cracked windshield, and Jean couldn’t be happier. He backed out of the little gravel driveway and onto the road. Since his mom’s car was from the Stone Age he had to play whatever cds his mom had in the car. The only one he could find was a Frank Sinatra Christmas album. Lord, help me, he thought to himself as Frank encouraged him to have himself a merry little Christmas in February. About halfway to the restaurant, Jean found himself singing along and having a good time. He hoped the music wasn’t loud enough for anyone else to hear him, though. Just as Jean was rushing to finish all twelve days of Christmas, he pulled into the parking lot. Marco was leaned up against Gustave looking cool and casual. Jean, however, thought he looked like a major loser and told him so when he got out of the car.

“Right back at’cha,” Marco winked.

“How long were you posed like that?” Jean asked, ignoring the wink.

“Oh, not long, only fifteen minutes,” he mumbled the last part.

“You are the biggest dork ever, Marco. You know that, don’t you?”

“Okay, but listen, here you are, on a date with me,” he started to walk towards the entrance, “so, wouldn’t that make you the bigger dork?”

“No,” Jean laughed.

As they walked into the little restaurant, the hostess gave a smile that seemed too big for comfort. “Marco!” she squealed, running around the counter to hug him.

“Hanje!” he cried, opening his arms wide, “How have you been? I haven’t seen you since I was twelve!”

“I’m great!” she replied, fixing her glasses that had gone off-kilter in the hug, “I just got the job here a few weeks ago and-,” she stopped, just noticing Jean standing awkwardly behind Marco, “well, who is this?”

“Oh! Right, sorry. Hange, this is Jean. Jean, Hanje. She was my baby sitter back when I was younger. She’s, like, the best.”

“Oh,” Jean mumbled, “it’s nice to meet you-,” Hanje moved to Jean and wrapped her arms around him as well, cutting him off.

“It’s so nice to meet you! You sure are handsome, good job, Marco,” she winked and Jean blushed from embarrassment while Marco chided her.

“Anyway,” she continued, “let me show you to your table before I get fired. Jean and Marco followed her to a two-topper in the back that had a candle in the middle. After getting a lighter from the back and setting the mood, Hanje left them to their table. After ordering drinks, Marco started the conversation. “Look, Jean, I still feel terrible about last night.”

“No, no, don’t feel bad, it’s not really your fault.”

“But it is,” Marco objected, “I could’ve just asked you out like a normal person, but I wanted to show off.”

“But I chose to go with you, it’s my fault.” Marco wasn’t convinced and looked genuinely upset with himself. Jean wanted to make him feel better so he changed the subject. “You know, I’ve never actually been here before, what should I even get?”

Marco’s face lit up and he grabbed the menu, “Well, I usually get the wonton soup, spring roll, and veggie lo mein. The General Tso’s chicken is also really good and so is the fried rice.”

Jean looked over the menu, noticing all the high prices, “Uh, shouldn’t there be a dollar menu somewhere?” he joked.

“Oh, don’t worry about the price, daddy’s got the bill.”

“Okay, first off, never call yourself daddy in my presence again or I’m leaving, and second, I couldn’t make you pay for all this. It’s too much.”

Marco laughed and took a sip of his water, “I’m sorry for that, I cringed saying it. Don’t worry, though, I’m not lacking for funds. Relax. This is to make up for everything last night.”

Jean was still uncomfortable with all this, so he decided to find the cheapest thing on the menu, “Thanks, Marco,” he smiled.

As the date went on, Jean found himself able to relax in Marco’s presence. He wasn’t worried about his mom or his job or the bill anymore, all he was interested in was Marco. Jean didn’t have to force himself to laugh at Marco’s jokes or stick to small talk, either. They talked about anything and everything, and Jean noticed halfway through the meal that his hand was resting on Marco’s. He didn’t get embarrassed or try to move it; it felt right to him. They sat there, listening to the soft music, waiting on the entrees, and staring into each other’s eyes as their fingers moved together. It was nice. Jean had kind of zoned out in his thoughts for a moment when he heard Marco speak to him. “So, how did your mom take the news?”

Jean sat up straighter, coming out of his daze, “Oh,” he said, “I haven’t told her yet, she was in such a great mood last night and this morning, i didn’t want to ruin it.”

“Don’t worry, Jean, I mean it’s just a job. Not like you killed anyone.”

Jean sighed and took his hand back to run his temples, “Yeah, but you don’t understand. We’ve never had much money and with my mom being the way she is, she can’t really hold down a job for too long. My job was enough to keep up going in addition to what she gets from disability.”

“You’re right. I don’t understand and I apologize,” Marco was serious now. “Why is your mom on disability, though? That is, if you don’t mind me asking.”

“No, no, it’s cool,” Jean looked out the window, thinking, “My mom was diagnosed with Bipolar Disorder when I was about thirteen. When I was a kid, I don’t think it was that bad. Now, though, she’s perfectly fine and happy for a few days, weeks, or even months and then,” the corners of Jeans mouth began to lower and his brow furrowed. “Then it gets bad.”

“What do you mean, ‘bad?’” Marco asked, leaning in to give Jean his full attention.

“Well, for example, I’ll come home some days and the house is a complete disaster. Dishes are piled up all in the sink, the floor is covered in dirty clothes, and mom locks herself away in her room - not coming out for anything at all. And then if she does come out I try to help her the best I can, but she just gets angry at me for the slightest things. After a few years, I learned to just keep my distance so neither of us does anything we’ll regret.”

The waiter brought out the food and set it before them.

“I’m sorry, Jean, truly I am,” he touched Jean’s arm reassuringly. “Doesn’t she see a doctor to get medication?”

“I mean, yeah, she goes to her old family doctor when she can, but most of the time she refuses to take the medication they give her.” Jean picked up his fork, “Enough of this, though. Let’s just eat and not worry about my mom anymore.”

And they did. Marco made sure not to say anything regarding Jean’s mom and Jean didn’t bring her up. The air was a bit different after the turn in conversation, but still not unpleasant. Jean listened to Marco talk about his art projects for school and laughed when Marco told about the girls in Bio who thought he was straight. “You know,” Marco said, “If you get that job at the cafe, I could come visit you between classes. You would get to see this stunning face every day.”

“Tempting,” Jean smirked, “but I don’t think the managers would approve of me talking to you on the clock.”

“Nonsense, the people there love me. I could make out with you while you took someone’s order and they wouldn’t care.”

“Really, maybe we could give it a go on the counter then?” he joked.

Marco wiggled his eyebrows, “Yes, right there next to the pastries. The donuts would be in for more heat than the oven.”

“I’m sure the jelly filling could come in handy,” Jean winked at Marco and Marco snorted loud enough that the couple at the next table over turned around. After that, they had to cover their mouths so they wouldn’t be asked to leave. Marco paid the bill and left a few tens for the waiter. Jean pretended not to notice and followed him outside. The blue sky had turned gray in the short time they’d been inside. “Huh,” Marco said, “I didn’t think it was supposed to rain today.”

“It wasn’t,” Jean replied.

“Well, Jean, this was fun. Let me know when you want to get some coffee on campus!” he shouted from his car.

Jean laughed before replying, “Sounds good. Will you bring the condoms or should i?”

Marco just smiled shook his head before getting into his car and driving off. Jean hopped in the Corolla and cranked up Sinatra. He had to run by the grocery store because he almost forgot to stop and pick up more frozen chicken taquitos for his mom. On the way home, Jean had to turn on the wipers as he was serenaded about white Christmases. As he pulled in the driveway, he noticed the lights were all off. “Weird,” he commented to no one but himself. He had to hold an old book he found in the dash over his head to block the rain as he ran up to the front door. Fumbling with his keys, he opened the front door and walked in.

The first thing he noticed was the family cat, Sawney, hiding by the door. He picked her up and she yowled at him to put her back. Walking into the living room, he saw all couch cushions in the floor and the tv was static. _Oh no_ , Jean thought. He already knew what had happened when he walked in, but now he was sure. He made his way down the hall and to his mom’s room. The door was shut so he knocked, “Mom?”

He didn’t hear anything from the other side so he opened it. His mom was passed out on the bed. With several empty bottles of Corona lying next to her. “Oh no, mom?” he walked toward her. “Mom, wake up.”

She rolled over and opened her eyes, “God, Jean, what do you want?”

“Mom, you’re drunk.”

“Yeah, no kidding. Now shut up and leave me alone.”

Jean sat on the bed, “Have you taken your medicine?”

“What medicine?”

“The medicine Doctor Cobain gave you. Where is it?”

“I don’t have it,” she rolled back over.

Jean grabbed her shoulder to stop her and continued, “Mom, what do you mean you don’t have it? We refilled that prescription a month ago.”

“Yeah, well, I threw it out.”

“Mom!”

“Don’t yell at me! That stuff is garbage and you know it.”

Jean was getting angry now, “No, I don’t. That medicine was to help you so you wouldn’t get like this.”

“Tough shit, Jean,” she sat up, scowling at him. “I’m tired of taking it, it makes me different.”

“Oh, and so you’d rather be like this? Passed out drunk in your room, making a mess of the whole house?”

“Why don’t you just leave me alone?” she was shouting. “All you do is nag me all the time and I’m tired of it!” Her forehead was slick with sweat and her eyes were bloodshot, “Do you have any idea what it’s like to be like this? I’m a joke, Jean! I can’t work, I can’t have any peace, do you know what that’s _like_? So finally I get some rest and start feeling better, and what happens? You come in here thinking you can _fix_ everything, but you can’t Jean! So please, for the love of God, go away.”

“Mom, please. I’m just trying to help.”

“Help?” she laughed bitterly, “You can’t help me. The only thing you’re good for is bringing in money for the bills. So why don’t you haul your ass over to that little shop of yours and make us some money?”

Jean set his jaw and spoke, “I can’t.”

“What do you mean you can’t?”

“I mean that I lost my job.”

She was quiet for a minute before answering, her brow knitted in anger, “You _what_?”

Jean told her everything. About the night before, about Marco, what he said to Mr. Ackerman. Everything.

“Well then,” she answered coldly, “I guess you’re just no use to me then, are you? No point in staying here if you can’t even bring any money home.”

“Mom,” his voice was shaky, “please, you need me here to help you.”

“I don’t need anything. Not from you. I’m fine here. Now get the hell out of my house and take that goddamned cat with you before I kill it.”

Jean stood and walked to the door. “Fine, if that’s what you want. I’ll go, but I’m not coming back,” he was crying. “Since you’re obviously so independent, I’ll leave.”

She wasn’t listening to him anymore and Jean didn’t say another word. He threw the door to his room open and started throwing all his clothes in a suitcase. He was taking everything of his so he wouldn’t be able to come back. He took his mom’s suitcases too, since she wouldn’t need them, and packed all the extra things like food for Sawney or toiletries. He felt an ache in the pit of his stomach the whole time and he knew he needed to stay. He knew his mom wouldn’t make it by herself. But he was tired of caring. He was tired of living in fear every day that she would snap on him and do this. It was only a matter of time before this happened, he knew. He had just been hoping that he would be ready. As he loaded Sawney into her cat carrier, he realized he didn’t have any way of transportation or even a place to stay. He couldn’t take his mom’s car and leave her completely helpless but he didn’t know what to do. He checked his phone and saw a message from Marco. _That’s it_ ,  he thought. His fingers tapped out a short and vague message on the screen before sending it. He got a reply no more than thirty seconds later and Marco was on his way.

Marco pulled up to the front door and helped Jean with all his luggage, not asking anything, not saying anything. Jean was grateful, because he didn’t feel like talking. The last thing to load was Sawney and Jean put a coat over her carrier to keep her from getting wet. He let her out to ride is his lap in the car and she seemed to be okay with that. Once they got driving down the road, Marco finally opened his mouth, “Hey.” Jean didn’t answer, but Marco continued talking, “You know, I think we should listen to some music. What would you like?” he plugged the AUX cord into his phone and shuffled through his library as he drove. The music distracted Jean enough for him to stop crying and turn from the window to face the road ahead.

“Thanks,” he muttered.

“No problem, Jean. You can stay with me for as long as you need, okay?”

“I don’t want to cause trouble,” Jean had already caused enough in his own house.

“Hey, come on, who do you take me for? I’m not doing this to get in your pants, Jean. I’m doing this as a friend and friends take care of each other. Although,” he added, “I wouldn’t object if you wanted to give them a scene over at the cafe.”

Jean smiled, “I may take you up on that.”

As they pulled into the apartment complex where Marco lived, Jean was surprised. The building altogether was at least three times the size of his own house and a lot nicer looking. “You do well, Marco,” he commented.

“Why thank you, I seem to think so,” he replied.

The storm had let up, and the sun was again peeking through the clouds. Marco helped Jean move his things inside and get them situated while Jean tried to explain to Sawney that she had to keep quiet until Marco could convince the landlord to let them keep her.

“What do you think ol’ room 99, Jean?” Marco asked, standing in front of the door.

“It’s great,” he replied, “but it says ‘69’ out here on the door. Not ‘99’”

Marco laughed, “Yeah, the top screw came loose and so the first 9 fell. Now it’s a 6 and it seems fitting, don’t you think?” Marco walked backwards and through the door.

“Sure, Marco,” Jean laughed. Sawney jumped from his arms and he followed her through the door and into their new home.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Y'all this took so long to do and now it's 3 am and I'm posting this when I have school tomorrow.  
> I'm really open to feedback on this, since I want to add more chapters but don't necessarily have a solid plot. So if you want to leave your input in the comments that's cool with me.  
> I'll try to update within the next two weeks, but I have other fics I want to work on as well.

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, so I plan on making this multichapter, but I'm not sure what I want to do with the rest of the story. I'll update soon(ish) with more.  
> Please forgive my half-assed summary.  
> Shout out to my beta, [giwp ](http://archiveofourown.org/users/giwp/profile), she's pretty cool and you should check out her work.  
> Our tumblrs are [acemockingjay ](http://acemockingjay.tumblr.com) and [mamaarachne ](http://mamaarachne.tumblr.com) if you want to check those out as well.


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